FEATURE:
So Real
Jeff Buckley’s Grace at Thirty
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MANY consider this album…
IN THIS PHOTO: Jeff Buckley in Milan in 1994/PHOTO CREDIT: Guido Harari
to be one of the finest debuts ever. I could not argue against it. Sadly, it was the only album Jeff Buckley would release before his death in 1997 at the age of thirty. Grace was released on 23rd August, 1994. I am looking ahead to its thirtieth anniversary. It is so sad that we do not have Jeff Buckley with us to celebrate Grace. It was a minor success in his native U.S. in 1994. More acclaimed and know here in the U.K. and Europe. In years since, Grace is seen as one of the most influential albums ever. A masterpiece from the Californian songwriter who, sadly, left us before his full potential was revealed. Many might associate Grace with Buckley’s transcendent cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. I think it is his original songwriting that stands out. Tracks like Grace, So Real, Dream Brother and Last Goodbye. His interpretative skill and range on show for Lilac Wine and Corpus Christi Carol. A Legacy Edition was released in 2004 on its tenth anniversary. It is shocking to think that Grace received mixed reviews and poor sales upon its release. In 1994, the music landscape was maybe set up more for other types of music. There was more of an Alternative threads in U.S. music. Britpop starting in the U.K. Grace maybe nodding back to artists like Joni Mitchell or those from the East Village in New York. Perhaps Grace more familiar with albums of the 1960s and 1970s. Of course, we now recognise Grace as a stunning and faultless album from one of the greatest voices ever. I wonder whether there will be any reissue or anything special happening for the thirtieth anniversary of Jeff Buckley’s debut album. It has influenced so many artists.
I will bring in a couple of reviews for Grace to finish off. Before that, there are some features I want to bring in. In 2019, Consequence of Sound looked back at Grace. How it arrived in 1994 in a music scene where other sounds and artists were fashionable. Grace had all this hype and buzz behind it. Seen as a bit disappointing when it arrived on 23rd August, 1994. Now we herald this album. Such a pity Jeff Buckley could not see the impact his debut album would make:
“Buckley had only one album to his name when he died, but my word, what an album it was. Grace hit shelves in 1994, arguably alternative rock’s single greatest year; its contemporaries included Soundgarden’s Superunknown, Beck’s Mellow Gold, Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral, Hole’s Live Through This, Green Day’s Dookie, and Weezer’s (first) self-titled album, to name just a few. The question isn’t whether or not Grace was superior to them — you can decide that one for yourself — but it sounded so fundamentally unlike those other albums that it might as well have come from another era. American alternative rock (as opposed to Britpop) was iconoclastic, disdainful of the hubris and hedonism of classic rock; moreover, it sounded ugly, and it dealt with ugly emotions.
Grace, on the other hand, was so … pretty. Compared with the blunt force riffage of Cobain, Kim Thayil (of Soundgarden), and other grunge guitarists, Buckley’s guitarwork was nimbler and more melodic and made much greater use of reverb than distortion. But prettiest of all remains Buckley’s voice — an instrument that has been described as “angelic” and “ethereal” so many times that it baits exasperation until you listen to it again and realize holy shit, it really is that special. The range and clarity of Buckley’s voice enabled him to not just cover but reinterpret seemingly every corner of the classic rock canon, which he had obvious respect for; filtered through Buckley’s voice box, the likes of Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin, Nina Simone, Van Morrison, and Leonard Cohen became something else entirely.
Speaking of Cohen, it’s impossible to write about Grace without setting aside at least a paragraph for Buckley’s cover of “Hallelujah”. Going into this review, I was tempted to put off the song for as long as possible, or to not select it as one of the album’s essential tracks, but it couldn’t be done. There’s just no way to imagine Grace without “Hallelujah”. Like Johnny Cash’s take on Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt”, Buckley’s version of “Hallelujah” is so complete a transformation that it effectively steals the song for himself. For better or worse, it may be his definitive song: for better, because it really does demonstrate what was so remarkable about him — how pristine his singing and guitar playing were — and for worse, because its overuse in movies and television as a sort of emotional shorthand threatens to eclipse the other nine tracks on Grace.
While Cohen’s song wouldn’t loom over Buckley until long after he died, he entered the music industry under the shadow of another artist: his late father, Tim Buckley. The elder Buckley — a similarly gifted vocalist whose work spanned folk, jazz and funk (and is worth hearing in its own right) — had no relationship with his son, meeting him only once before his own accidental death in 1975. Jeff, then eight years old, wasn’t invited to the funeral. He’d get the chance to pay his last respects in 1991, singing a few of his father’s songs at the “Greetings from Tim Buckley” tribute concert. He didn’t intend to use his appearance as a breakthrough into the music industry (he requested that his name be left off the lineup), but it certainly put his foot in the door. (If you want to hear what Buckley was doing between the tribute concert and Grace, check out the expanded edition of Live at Sin-é.)
But on the rest of Grace, Buckley really only sounds like himself. The dreamy (some might say druggy) “Mojo Pin” has some of the most creative and unexpected musical transitions outside of progressive rock, deftly switching between delicate fingerpicking, soft strumming, and rapid strumming. “Last Goodbye”, likely the second-best-known song on the album (after “Hallelujah”, of course), is such a soaring tune that you just might forget it’s a breakup song, using strings in a way that sounds splendid as opposed to syrupy. Bookending “Hallelujah” on the album are the hypnotic “So Real”, which repeats itself over and over again like a spiral staircase to the sky, and “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over”, a slow-burning, yearning ballad. All of these songs serve as reminders that Buckley was making some of the most unique and unabashedly beautiful music of the ’90s.
After Grace, he’d grow more reluctant to record beauty for beauty’s sake. He also started to chafe under increased pressure from his label; Columbia had indulged Buckley in the studio and sent him on a year and a half of near-constant touring, but Grace was a slow seller and met with reviews that were favorable but not effusive. The label urged Buckley to release “Forget Her”, a bluesy lament that might have been a hit if Buckley hadn’t left it off Grace as a single — a request that Buckley, who had grown tired of the song, refused. (Some posthumous editions of Grace tacked the song onto the end after “Dream Brother”.) Going into Grace’s follow-up, then titled My Sweetheart the Drunk, Buckley seemed determined to make a record that was thornier and less commercial, enlisting Tom Verlaine (formerly of Television) to produce the initial sessions and eschewing its predecessor’s dalliances with folk and jazz. Where Buckley genuflected to the classics on Grace, My Sweetheart the Drunk seemed to be his bid for indie cred — and it probably would have gotten him a lot of it had he lived to finish the record the way he wanted. It’s impossible to know what it would have sounded like.
It’s also impossible to know what the reputation of Grace would be if Buckley were still alive today. In the years after Buckley’s passing, Grace drew praise from many of his idols: Bob Dylan called Buckley “one of the great songwriters of this decade”; David Bowie once claimed Grace to be among his favorite albums ever made; even Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, whose music Buckley had fallen in love with so long ago, paid their respects. The death of an artist changes the way we see their art as the loss of what we could have had forces us to reevaluate what we do have. There’s no doubt that Buckley wanted his debut album to stand the test of time, and it’s a shame that it’s the only classic he lived to complete. But it speaks to the musician that he could have been — the musician that he was — that Grace has left such a lasting legacy”.
Prior to getting to reviews, it is worth sourcing from No Depression. They celebrated the emotional lightning rod of Grace at twenty-five. Writing about it in 2019, it is amazing to think that there was not this massive excitement and celebration of Grace. It must have been heartbreaking for Jeff Buckley to read some of those reviews. Having poured his hearth and soul into every song, the press and public were not as receptive as hoped. With core band members Michael Tighe, Matt Johnson and Mick Grøndahl, something magic was released in 1994:
“Grace is 25 years old. Jeff Buckley’s debut is gorgeous and heartbreaking, ambitious, daring and eclectic, and, as the sole studio album released during his short life, the only fully realized vision of the artistic brilliance he possessed.
With the expectation that his first LP was the starting point of an iconic recording career, Columbia Records released Grace on Aug. 23, 1994. Entertainment Weekly deemed it “stunningly original” and “too good to be true.” Greg Kot of the Chicago Tribune heralded Buckley’s voice as having “a soulful intensity that sends chills.” Peers and legends such as Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, Paul McCartney, Bob Dylan, David Bowie, and Chris Cornell were effusive in their praise of the album and of Buckley’s tremendous gifts as a singer, guitarist, and composer.
Others were not so kind. Rolling Stone lauded his ambition, but gave Grace a three-star review that featured the one of the poorest-aging opinions in the magazine’s history: “The young Buckley’s vocals don’t always stand up: He doesn’t sound battered or desperate enough to carry off Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah.’” And Robert Christgau, the “Dean of American Rock Critics,” gave it a C rating and lampooned the hoopla surrounding Buckley by writing, “Let us pray the force of hype blows him all the way to Uranus.”
A Vessel
The son of prodigiously talented folk-jazz singer/cult icon Tim Buckley and Mary Guibert, Jeff arrived at music without the guidance of the father he met only once before Tim’s death in 1975 from a drug overdose. While a cornerstone of his legacy is his gorgeous, multi-octave voice, Buckley’s first passion and pursuit in music was the guitar, where he was drawn to the sounds of Led Zeppelin and jazz fusion.
After spending the latter half of the 1980s kicking around as a guitarist in various jazz, metal, punk, funk, reggae, and R&B bands, Buckley began to pursue his own songs. In 1991 he attracted industry attention when, accompanied by guitarist Gary Lucas, he made his public singing debut at a tribute show for his father.
From there, Buckley’s career trajectory changed. After collaborating with Lucas for a year, he went out on his own and became part of the New York City café scene. These shows, later documented on Live at Sin-é, became part of his legend, featuring both his original tunes and an eclectic mix of fare made popular by Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, Judy Garland, and Bad Brains.
These café shows regularly attracted record executives and power players, and in October 1992 Buckley signed a three-album deal with Columbia Records. The label had high hopes that Buckley’s brilliance would quickly reveal itself to a wider range of fans. The thinking was that he’d succeed labelmates Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen as someone who would flourish into the finest singer-songwriter of his generation and compile a legendary body of work.
For the band that helped record Grace and toured with him in support, that brilliance was apparent from the beginning.
“This might sound stupid, but I don’t give a shit,” his former drummer Matt Johnson says. “But one time when we were playing, something about his voice went through my body. It was an entirely metaphysical moment where something supernatural happened.
“The man was one of the most extraordinary musicians to ever live,” he adds. “Jeff was this lightning rod of the tone and tenor of all the human emotion in a room. He had this ability to act as an emotional lightning rod, and I always thought he’d hopefully become a vessel for that.”
Saving ‘Grace’
Johnson first met Buckley in summer 1993 and within a couple of months was recruited to be the drummer for the Grace recording sessions. Though the then-23-year-old had had some session and recording experience, Johnson had never worked on a project of this scale before. As he looks back on the experience, Johnson thinks his youth and relative inexperience played a large part in why Buckley wanted him in the band.
“Jeff seemed to be confident he could get what he needed from this ensemble,” he says. “We were young and, in my case, had a lot of insecurities. I think he wanted that — he didn’t want session musicians, he wanted the transformation younger players would bring and create a snapshot of that.”
While Johnson recalls that “the stakes felt high” and there was a “sense of importance of Jeff” to Columbia, he doesn’t remember the process of creating Grace as particularly laborious or fraught. Part of this can be attributed to the calming nature of producer Andy Wallace, who had previously worked on Nirvana’s Nevermind, Run-DMC’s Raising Hell, and multiple albums by Slayer, and his ability to nurture the creative process.
Johnson also attributes a large part of that to Buckley’s multi-instrumental capabilities, uncanny ear, instincts, and efficiency. Because of that, it only took about a day per song to lay down the non-vocal elements.
“I thought he was a very good collaborator, bandleader, and mentor,” Johnson says. “Jeff understood how to both be an individual musician, while also still keenly aware of how to be part of an ensemble.
“His listening was a very powerful thing to be present for,” Johnson continues, comparing Buckley’s auditory capacity to that of composer Johann Sebastian Bach. “It could be textures, entry points, Jeff just knew how stuff should be held together. He could get a pairing of two basic opposites and it’d sound idiosyncratic and perfect.”
While Johnson was there for the entirety of the recording process, Michael Tighe came into Buckley’s band at the tail end of the sessions. The guitarist had met Buckley through a mutual friend in high school and the two had jammed on and off. As Buckley closed in on completing Grace and was putting together his touring band, he reached out to his friend.
Much like Johnson, Tighe was impressed by Buckley’s ability to absorb so many influences and styles, then translate it into his own work.
“He would ruminate on the music a lot and when it came time for recording, he’d really focus,” Tighe says. “He’d usually come in very quickly or he’d obsess on it and get into a perfectionist mindset. But he wouldn’t release something until it was perfect.
“He was really taken with a lot of music,” Tighe says. “He could cast this spell and create a space that was quite meditative. We would sit or stand in a circle and drone on something. We all had very good chemistry; it’s why he put the band together.”
That natural chemistry Buckley had with Tighe and the rest of the group came in handy and allowed Tighe to come in with a late contribution that changed the complexion of Grace.
“One day I played him the chords to ‘So Real.’ It was something I played him in my room (back in high school),” he recalls. “This was after, like, most of the album was done. During rehearsals he said, ‘Hey, remember that song you played in your room?’”
Thus, “So Real” came to be. To make room for it on Grace, Buckley bumped “Forget Her” off the album. This move came much to the chagrin of Columbia Records, which had planned to issue “Forget Her” as the lead single. Neither Johnson nor Tighe can recall quite why Buckley held such disdain for “Forget Her,” a tune of his own composition, but both vividly remember his adamance in replacing it.
“‘So Real’ saved the record for him,” Johnson says. “And it points toward the sound he was going for, it’s the sound of a door opening to the future.”
A Cult Hero
When Grace was finally released, grunge rock, hip-hop, and The Lion King soundtrack dominated the charts. There weren’t many acts out there simultaneously channeling Nina Simone, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, the Smiths, and Led Zeppelin. As such, it took a long time for the record to take hold and capture the imagination of listeners: It peaked at 149 on the Billboard Top 200 albums chart that year and didn’t reaching platinum-selling status until 2006.
“You can go back now and think about the production and the mix from that time period, but I think it’s perfect in its own way,” Tighe notes. “I think Jeff was very aware of how good the album was, but I think it bothered him slightly the album wasn’t more successful. But he was already a cult hero. We all thought it’d be a longer career and that would change.
“The zeitgeist was so different back then. There weren’t bands like Coldplay, Radiohead had just started,” Tighe says. “When I play it now for people, I love watching the glaze that comes over their eyes. Ultimately, it’s his voice, people just have an immediate emotional reaction to his voice.”
Johnson’s feelings on Grace are tied strongly to the recording sessions, that moment in time they captured and what it all meant personally. The fact that it connected with people well after the fact is an added bonus.
“When it comes to Grace, I feel very, very lucky. I’m never in a position to look at it like anything but a fuckin’ penny from heaven,” he says. “There isn’t one song I don’t like. When I hear it, it’s like I made this amazing best image of me that could be captured in any scenario.
“I can’t find fault with it and it’s not like I haven’t heard criticism,” Johnson continues. “But the feeling I got recording it was absolutely spine-chilling. I did not ever more feel what the drive of my life was, and it could not have borne better fruits. To have Rolling Stone or whoever now praise it is icing on the fucking cake. I don’t ever feel like, ‘What the fuck took you so long?’”
Musical Echoes
It took a few years for Buckley’s influence on fellow artists to be heard. By Tighe’s estimation, it was around the early 2000s that he started hearing Buckley-esque melodies on the radio, including from bands such as Coldplay and Radiohead, who drew inspiration from Buckley’s chord progressions and structures.
“Now you just hear it all the time,” he says. “There was that moment a while back someone did ‘Hallelujah’ on one of those shows like American Idol. The zeitgeist has changed a lot”.
Let’s end with a couple of reviews. Grace: Legacy Edition was reviewed by Pitchfork in 2004. They note how Jeff Buckley was more of a songbird than a Rock artist. Maybe the mainstream and media not quite sure what to make of him. An artist that stood out in 1994. The raw emotion and heart-baring songs were perhaps jarring or unusual against the sounds of the time:
“1993's Live at Sin-e EP gives the best idea of what Columbia's A&R; rep must have seen in Buckley at the time. At shows, he was the picture of a high diva: sprawling, boundless and with more than a pinch of self-conscious glitter. However, as he revealed in The Making of Grace, the behind-the-scenes feature that leads off the third disc DVD in Columbia's new "Legacy" edition reissue of his debut full-length, he needed a band. He already had Grondhal, met drummer Matt Johnson through Grace executive producer Steve Berkowitz, and, midway through recording the album, brought in guitarist Michael Tighe (who eventually contributed "So Real", to which Buckley added a chorus and put on the record in place of the bluesy "Forget Her"). Producer Andy Wallace speaks on the documentary about his concerns over how much of the record should reflect Buckley's solo performances, but true to form, the singer wanted it all.
Somehow, despite an overflow of ideas-- they needed three different band setups available at all times to accommodate Buckley's various moods-- the record got done. And it was released. And thousands of open-heart romantics heard their ship come in. As it happened, Grace was received with mixed feelings from critics who probably thought they were getting the next great alt-rock savior, and instead felt they'd received dinner theater for the moody crowd. They had a point: For all its swells of emotion and midnight dynamics, Grace was not a record to rally the post-grunge alternation. It made a jazz noise where a rock one was expected and a classical one where a pop one might have sold more records. MTV snagged "Last Goodbye", Grace's most radio-friendly song by a considerable margin, but Buckley was predestined for a cult stardom.
Grace's strengths have been well-documented over the years: The flawless choice of cover songs, including the definitive reading of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" (that we learn on the documentary was actually chosen based on John Cale's 1991 version from the Cohen tribute I'm Your Fan); the mystic, blue textures of "Mojo Pin", "So Real" and "Dream Brother" that seemed as related to Led Zeppelin as to Scott Walker as to Buckley's father; Wallace's sympathetic, intimate production and the band's equally sensitive following of Buckley's lead. And of course, he sang the hell out of those songs. His voice turned upward songs that naturally leaned inward; his reading of Nina Simone's "Lilac Wine" transformed from misty cocktail lament into transcendental experience, and the unlikely recasting of English composer Benjamin Britten's "Corpus Christi Carol" into ambient lullaby.
And, as this reissue proves, for every bit of lightning trapped in a jar, Buckley was willing to try his hand at many songs with which he held a weaker grasp. Firstly, he fancied himself a rock star, and the second disc of this set includes endearing, but ultimately inessential readings of the MC5's "Kick Out the Jams", a pretty silly Screamin' Jay Hawkins impersonation on Leiber & Stoller's "Alligator Wine", and a speed-metal take on "Eternal Life". His version of Big Star's "Kanga-Roo" nails its weary grandeur, but goes overboard on the ensuing 11-minute jam session, effectively transforming it from intimidating wall of drone into a meandering, albeit unfinished and tentative giant. He sounds best interpreting songs like Bukka White's "Parchman Farm Blues", Simone's "The Other Woman", and Bob Dylan's "Mama, You Been On My Mind", though his own take on the blues-- the previously unreleased "Forget Her"-- sounds comparatively pedestrian.
So, the question becomes how frustrated you are willing to be with Buckley. His posthumous releases suggest what Grace did: that he was one of the most talented musicians of his generation, while also being one of the most impulsive and, often, maddeningly inconsistent. Is he really being served by the uncovering of outtakes, B-sides and live performances? Fans certainly think so, but I won't cop to listening very beyond his lone completed record these days. And it bears emphasizing that its rewards have lost nothing in 10 years. Grace remains one of the most engaging, inspired records ever made, and its 10 original songs serve as the best possible portrait of Buckley as a diva, songwriter and artist”.
There are other features and reviews that are well worth exploring. I am going to end with a review from Sputnik Music. They heralded an essential Rock album that has changed music in years since. Thirty years after its release, you can feel and see the impact it has had. So many artists owe a huge debt to Jeff Buckley’s dazzling, distinct, pure and moving debut. The artistry and passion that goes into the tracks. It is so captivating all these years later:
“Displaying a blend of warm folky ballads, alternative rockers, and even gospel touches here and there, Grace's music is pretty diverse and serves as a great backdrop for Buckley's vocals which, let's face it, are still the main focus here. Among the most impressive things the record manages to accomplish is establishing a powerful chemistry between Jeff's singing and the instrumentation, which intertwine in a variety of interesting ways. The way the singer's vocal work and guitar playing combine in a song like the warm chord-centric Leonard Cohen cover "Hallelujah" creates an intimate atmosphere that makes for an extremely passionate performance. You'll be able to hear a pin drop during that stunning instrumental break in the middle as the guitar work quietly modulates through multiple keys with some absolutely gorgeous finger-picking. "Lilac Wine" follows a similar path, albeit in a more melancholic fashion, before transforming into a soulful ballad that, despite repeating its main motif quite a bit, never seems to grow old. There are, however, many times in which Buckley completely overpowers the instrumentation 100%, such as in the title track's stunning climax near its conclusion. Jeff holds a note with his head-voice that lasts for over ten seconds, along with actually going up a few notes in the process; it is at this point that you realize that he is in full control of this entire record. While "Mojo Pin" serves as a nice somber opener, the title track raises the stakes and displays just how large Jeff's vocal range is and the plethora of techniques he knows. Between his falsettos, high head-voice notes, quiet and intimate near-whispers, etc., he reveals his proverbial "hand" quite early on and yet continues to impress anyway.
One of the most important facts considering this record's acclaim is how it's not at all a product of the times (1994 in this case), and that is what makes it so great. In fact, songs like "Hallelujah," "Lover, You Should've Come Over," and bittersweet closer "Dream Brother" sound like they'd be special and out of place (in a good way) in any time period because of how genuinely timeless they sound. The same could be said of most of the record, although some songs such as "Last Goodbye" and loud rocker "Eternal Life" are a bit more on the conventional side; in that case, Buckley's vocals and little compositional subtleties elevate them beyond being generic or unmemorable. Also, perhaps one of Grace's biggest strengths is how many of its songs create crystal-clear mental images; musical environments, if you will. The intro to "Lover, You Should've Come Over" is one such song, using the harmonium (aka pump organ) to create an airy and melancholic landscape that somehow seems hopeful because of the use of some beautiful major chords in the mix. "Mojo Pin" uses extensive note-bending on the guitar, creating what sounds like a new age-inspired vibe even as the louder moments take hold of the overall song. Perhaps the most sadly fitting is "Dream Brother," which conveys a brooding, somber sound that seems almost desolate and empty, the album's dark conclusion almost seeming like a foreshadowing of Buckley's own demise.
In the end, Jeff Buckley could be considered the 90s version of 60/70s folk legend Nick Drake, releasing a small amount of material before dying way too early. But luckily, he also shared the distinction of having his work being some of the most acclaimed music of his generation, and it garnered him a posthumous fanbase beyond what anybody would've expected. Grace is one of the most essential records of rock music, not just of the 90s but all rock (and folk, for that matter) in general; it wasn't just a promising debut, but a miracle of a record in its own right”.
On 23rd August, it will be thirty years since the release of Grace. There will be celebration. Rather than the more muted reaction back in 1994, there will be more love and respect for Jeff Buckley’s debut. Produced by Andy Wallace and, with songs that have stood the test of time, there is no doubting how important Grace is. If Jeff Buckley were still with is, he would be touched and love…
HOW people have taken Grace to heart.